


Patent Patience

by starstruck1986



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2013-03-24
Packaged: 2017-12-06 08:52:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/733823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starstruck1986/pseuds/starstruck1986
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: A chance meeting leads to Ron exploring more than he ever thought he would.<br/>Warnings: Foot fetish, bondage furniture.</p><p>Written for hp_kinkfest on Livejournal in 2011.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Patent Patience

**Patent Patience**  
  
“Oh Godric...”  
  
“Ron, I think even _you_ know that he can't save you now...”  
  
Ron huffed, knowing the truth but hating it. He wondered idly in the back of his mind how he managed to find himself in these situations, and more often of late, in these situations with _Severus Snape._  
  
His situation, to be blunt, was flat out on his back on a padded bench with his feet locked in metal stocks, whilst said feet were encased in four inch patent red high heels. He curled his toes slightly and enjoyed the feel of the soft sole beneath them. His arms were belted down over his head. He couldn't imagine where Snape had found the torture furniture he was tied to, but if his hard-on was testament to anything, it was that Ron wanted one of his own: badly.  
  
Cool fingers ran up his shins, tickling the hairs there.  
  
“Not a fan of shaving then?” Snape asked quietly, circling his thumbs over Ron's ankle bones.  
  
“Do you want me to be?” Ron groaned, closing his eyes and pressing his hips in the air. “This is your... your fantasy...”  
  
Ron managed to lie through his teeth convincingly, he hoped, even though he was fooling himself. He had almost leapt into the first pair of heels he could find when, in a dark club, he had found his ex-Professor lurking and looking longingly at a male sub in a pair of thigh-highs and a pair of knickers. It was his fetish as much as the older man's, except he longed to be the one doing the wearing. How he had ended up so warped, Ron had no idea. He'd had a wholesome upbringing. He'd waited until he was of age to lose his virginity. He'd even thought about marrying that particular for a while, until one day he found a dirty magazine under his gay brother's bed and found himself wanking to it.  
  
 _And it really was a simple as that..._  
  
“Pay attention,” Snape snapped, and Ron gasped as a sharp tug to his sac brought him crashing back to earth. “Now then... these do look delicious, you know...”   
  
“Feet are too big,” Ron muttered regretfully. He thought that he looked like a Muggle clown in the heels -albeit a clown with very good taste; apparently, Jimmy Choo was important to Muggle women, and even a few witches.  
  
He'd had to magically enlarge them to get them to fit, and saw no attraction in himself or his feet. He'd worn better.  
  
“I've always liked red patent...” Snape murmured, stroking one finger over the glossy surface. “Same as I have always loved a redhead in heels.”  
  
Ron blushed and closed his eyes. His back was sweating so that his skin stuck to the padded bench beneath.   
  
“Take them off,” he begged, flexing his feet to see if he could work the shoes off himself. His feet were growing as hot as the rest of him, and he could feel the sweat building between his toes and making them sticky.  
  
“No,” Snape answered calmly. “Not until I am ready.”  
  
Ron fell silent and waited as the man resumed stroking his calf muscles and ankles. The touches were delicate, as if he were a porcelain doll which had been dropped and might break at any moment. Despite himself, and the heat of his body and his shame at his appearance, Ron began to lose himself in them, loving the soft caresses and the blatant reverence with which Severus Snape regarded his body. Even if Ron couldn't understand it, he saw no point in not enjoying it.  
  
“Has anybody ever tied you up like this before?” The question was sensual in delivery.  
  
“Never,” Ron confirmed.  
  
“Through lack of want on your behalf or lack of interest?”  
  
“Lack of interest,” Ron almost-squeaked, embarrassed.  
  
“Fools,” Snape muttered. “Well, more fool them for missing out on such a...”  
  
He didn't finish his sentence and Ron was glad. His cock was beginning to ache as it rested, fat and thick, on his lower belly, neglected.  
  
“And how did you find yourself with this fetish, hmm?” Snape's voice was much closer than Ron expected, and he opened his eyes to find the man hovering over him, looking down into his face.  
  
“I don't know,” he whispered. “I just... I always liked foot massage and then... it just...”  
  
“Grew,” Snape answered for him. “I understand that. It always starts simply and then... the mind is a devious thing, Weasley. It sometimes gives us too much fantasy for our own good, making us long for things which should, in reality, remain just that -a fantasy. But you seem to be coping well... are you enjoying this? Are you comfortable?”  
  
Ron nodded wordlessly and looked up at him. He took the soft, inexplicable kiss on his lips when it came, enjoying the way their noses brushed together -one long, one hooked, neither perfect.   
  
“Are you ready?”  
  
“I was ready about half an hour ago...” Ron swallowed.  
  
Snape straightened and walked to the end of the bench. Ron waited with held breath as fingers gripped his heel, and, finally, with blissful freedom, worked one of the shoes off. He moaned happily to the ceiling. The hooked nose which had been nudging against his own only seconds before suddenly pressed into the soft curve of the underside of his toes, and sniffed. The sensation of the sucking air tickled and raced straight to his cock. Snape inhaled again, more strongly, and Ron heard a moan.  
  
“Lick them,” he begged, wishing he could touch himself. “Please.”  
  
He wasn't surprised when Snape ignored him by inhaling again and working thumbs into the ball of his foot. As they began to massage, Ron bit down hard into his lip and tried to regulate his breathing. It all went out of the window when a warm, wet tongue suddenly lapped at the second joint of his second toe, tasting the sweat there.  
  
With that one simple action, Snape unlocked them both. Ron threw his head back and moaned at the ceiling as the man at his feet lost control, licking without abandon and beginning to suckle on his toes, adding the occasional nip. All the while, the massage continued, and Ron looked down the line of his body to see the tip of his cock pearly and purpled with want. Abruptly, all sensation stopped and Ron cried out in protest before his other shoe was removed, and the same delicious torture began all over again on his right sole. He didn't know why, but it was always the more sensitive of the two. Ron wondered if it was because it was the foot of the leg Sirius Black had snapped when he was thirteen, which still ached in the rain and became stiff if he walked too far.   
  
“Oh fuck... Snape...” he moaned, as lips clamped around the second toe on that foot and sucked, hard.  
  
It might have been bearable, Ron thought, if the pressure hadn't kept up. It seemed like the wizard lingered there forever, simply suckling on the toe and batting at it with his tongue. Whatever the actual time spent, Ron was a mess within seconds. Without real instruction, his hips began to cant, pressing his ignored erection into the air. He strained against the belts at his wrists, longing to capture himself and wank himself into oblivion to match the exquisite torture on his feet.  
  
Knowing that his reaction would only make his torturer work harder made it all the better.  
  
“S-Stop!” he cried out, as orgasm began to pull in his belly and tingle his balls. It was too early. He wanted to last longer.  
  
Snape released him and sat up to look; Ron saw the colour in his lips, which were swollen, and swallowed.  
  
“Do I have to employ magic, Weasley?”  
  
“Please... Gods, do.”  
  
Unashamed of his begging, Ron continued it, whispering pleas for more of whatever Severus Snape could give him, as long as he didn't make him come too early. Snape smirked at him for a moment and then bent down to reach for something. When he appeared back in view, Ron saw him holding a quill in hand.  
  
“Oh... Christ,” Ron shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut and unable to stop the Muggle phrase slipping from his lips. He had picked it up from Harry somewhere along the line.  
  
“I think you're most definitely praying for help from the wrong people,” Snape said with a sigh. “Now then.”   
  
Ron didn't even pretend to recognise the spell the wizard enchanted the quill with; all he knew was that a second later, the devilishly sharp point of the quill was tracing over his sole. It was a few moments before he realised that the quill was actually writing. He concentrated, trying to see if he could recognise the letters being spelt out on his soles, but there was too much sensation. He quickly became overwhelmed, writhing where he was tied as the movement of the quill began to tickle beyond pleasantness.  
  
Still, his cock remained hard at his groin.  
  
“Do you know what it's writing?” Severus whispered, suddenly close again.  
  
Ron looked up at him and managed to gather his wits enough to shake his head.  
  
“It's writing my name,” he said simply, leaning down to kiss Ron again. “My name, on your feet, owning them, proclaiming them my own.”  
  
“Will it mark?” Ron gasped through their kiss.  
  
“Do you want it to?”  
  
“Yes!”  
  
Something flashed in onyx eyes and Snape was suddenly gone, back to the end of the bench. Ron jumped when the pressure became slightly sharper.  
  
“Marking you...” Snape said, watching the quill. “Making you mine.”  
  
Ron thought he might regret his decision later on, but at that point in time, the quill writing over his foot felt divine. His heart was thrumming in his chest; sweat was beading at his temple. He was panting. He had never felt as high as at that moment. One of Snape's hands idly caressed his other foot and that, Ron found, was too much. The wizard rubbed a gentle path where his toes met the pad beneath them.  
  
“Oh... bollocks!” Ron cried, as the storm in his belly plunged south and seized his cock, sending it rigid, drawing his balls close to his body and then, even though he tried desperately to cling on to it, his orgasm ruined him.  
  
He hissed and cried and turned the air blue as he came, feeling the hot liquid squirting over his own stomach. He screwed up his eyes and moaned, ashamed that he had not been able to hold on. It was only when thin fingers wrapped around his shaft and began to milk him did he dare to look again, at the mess he had made of himself, at the look of disappointment he expected to find on his playmate's face.   
  
“God...” Snape stared at him, almost aghast, or otherwise completely stunned. “Do you always look like that when you come, Weasley?”  
  
Unable to answer, Ron sagged into the bench and tried to calm down. His cock wilted in Snape's palm and it was gently laid to rest on his pubic hair.  
  
“I'm sorry,” Ron breathed. “I'm so sorry... I tried.”  
“Shut up,” Snape instructed.  
  
Ron frowned as he felt a hard bulge pressing into his side.  
  
“You have no business in apologising when you have done _this_ to a man, simply by lying there and being worshipped.”  
  
Ron felt a kiss press to his sweaty temple and shied away. He was chased and another kiss fell, on his cheek that time.  
  
“We have all night,” Snape whispered in his ear. “All night to do as we wish.”  
  
Finally daring to open his eyes, Ron looked up at the older wizard and noted how the candlelight muted some of the hardness of his face. His dark hair and darker eyes were oddly mysterious and completely compelling. He nodded breathlessly and puckered his lips for another kiss. It was granted, and Ron thought no more of shame.  
  
 _-fin-_


End file.
